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Grandad's Diary

Dear Diary


Today has been the worst day of my life.  Today I lost a friend; my best friend and now I know he's gone.


All it took was a gunshot; a simple, simple gunshot and now he's gone, gone forever.  It was all my fault.  If only I wasn't there, if only he hadn't responded to my silly, silly nod, if only our enemy hadn't had been so sharp and ready, then we would still be here, still be fighting, he would still be with me.  I remember him gripping my hand tightly as a weak smile lit his face.  The more the tears streamed down my face, the more I felt him slip away in my arms.  I feel as guilty as a robber, as lonely as a street child and now I know I am a murderer, murderer who killed their best friend.  I remember reassuring him over and over again that he would be ok, that he would see his family again, that we would see tomorrow.  Staying positive I looked into his eyes and saw that he couldn't hold on any longer; and before my very own eyes I saw death coiling itself around my best friend's thin and scrawny body before he slipped away there and then, in my arms.


Everything went so quick; a nod, a last breath, a weak smile, then death ...


When he had slipped away everything was so silent and all I could hear was guilt, guilt, guilt from my heart, knowing that all it took was a silly, silly nod and a simple, simple gunshot that took his life away.


Love Grandad



(This moving account was written by Eve Baddeley, a Year 5 pupil, as part of a project she was working on in class)